


On A Wire

by hanap



Series: Devil's Dyke [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Love (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Created the Stars (Good Omens), Crowley Hurts The Houseplants (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Outer Space (Good Omens), Crowley Loves the Houseplants (Good Omens), Crowley Submits to the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Service Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24404620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanap/pseuds/hanap
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley have an impromptu stargazing night at their South Downs cottage. For the first time ever, Crowley brings up his memories from Before. Aziraphale finally puts two and two together about the stars and the plants. [Rated E for smut.](Inspired by "Cherry Wine" by Hozier - all abuse directed towards the plants only!)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Devil's Dyke [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1746577
Comments: 37
Kudos: 247
Collections: Top Aziraphale Recs





	On A Wire

**Author's Note:**

> _Her eyes and words are so icy  
>  Oh but she burns  
> Like rum on the fire  
> Hot and fast and angry as she can be  
> I walk my days on a wire.  
> _\- Hozier, "Cherry Wine"
> 
> [If smut squicks you out, you can stop reading after this line: “The wonder that’s keeping the stars apart.” Start again after: "He buried his nose in Crowley’s hair, breathing in the familiar scent of home."]

Dragonflies flickered in and out of sight in the grass as Aziraphale crossed the yard to get to what was formerly a large shed that Crowley had converted into a greenhouse. It had been miracled from its previous decrepit state into a beautiful structure built with panes of glass from roof to wall, with a minimalist frame of sturdy dark grey metal. Aziraphale privately felt as though Crowley had willed it to hold itself together in a way that was not quite physically possible, given how enormous the glass panels were compared to the frame.

Aziraphale peeked in through the glass, but Crowley’s back was turned. He’d given up his plant mister for a proper garden hose with some fancy nozzles, which he was now brandishing at some of the plants nearer to the back. Aziraphale tapped on the glass, but Crowley didn’t seem to notice, so he went ahead and opened the door quietly to let himself in. The moment he turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, Crowley’s voice came issuing loud and clear out of the greenhouse. 

“How many times do I have to remind you guys how good you have it here? Can you imagine what I went through to build this? And this is how you repay me?”

Crowley’s threatening growl was growing in volume with every word he spoke. Aziraphale was rather taken aback. He knew Crowley ruled over his plants with an iron fist and had listened to him ranting about their misbehaviour, but he’d never actually heard him speaking like this to them before.

“All you have to do is sit there and grow properly, and you can’t even do that?”

Aziraphale shifted slightly, growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. He wasn’t certain Crowley would be shouting at them like this if he knew that he was there, but he no longer knew how to get Crowley’s attention now that he had heard him shouting at his plants. 

“Pathetic, the lot of you.”

Crowley spat out the words as he flung the garden hose into a hook hanging overhead. Aziraphale flinched and stepped back, inadvertently knocking over an empty flowerpot with his elbow. The loud clatter made Crowley start. He turned quickly, poised like a snake about to strike.

“So sorry, my dear. I was trying to get your attention, but you seemed quite… occupied.”

Aziraphale smiled weakly, but the blood had drained from Crowley’s face at the sight of him standing there. He raised his hand to his face in an automatic motion Aziraphale recognized, to push his dark sunglasses more securely against his eyes. Only Crowley didn’t wear glasses anymore, not since they moved to the cottage. Crowley seemed to realize it halfway through. His hand stopped in mid-air, hovering a few inches from his face for a second before he dropped it to his side. He looked away from Aziraphale, glaring at his plants in annoyance.

“Got to show them who’s boss, otherwise they’ll think they can do whatever they want and start slacking off. Look at the ungrateful lot of them.”

Crowley gestured with irritation at the plants behind him. Was it just Aziraphale’s imagination? No, it wasn’t – there was no other word to describe it, they were _shaking_. Never mind, he’d think about that later.

“I’m sure they’re doing their best.”

“Their best?” Crowley snorted unbelievingly. “They’ve got everything handed to them on a silver platter, angel. They know what’s expected of them, and they can’t even make the bare minimum.”

All of a sudden, Aziraphale was no longer sure they were still talking about the plants. He was starting to feel deeply troubled, but this wasn’t the time or place to discuss it. He stepped closer, took Crowley’s hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. Crowley looked just the slightest bit ashamed now, but his chin was still raised defiantly.

“Just give them some time. Perhaps they’re still adjusting.” Aziraphale patted his hand softly. Crowley made a noncommittal sound in his throat, his eyebrows still drawn together fiercely.

“I came to ask if you’d join me for a spot of lunch. I managed to convince the pub to deliver a rack of that excellent roast lamb we had last time.”

He was relieved to see Crowley’s face soften, the scowl relaxing into a familiar look, half-exasperated, half-tender, that he often wore when he was looking at Aziraphale.

“Should I ask how you went about convincing them?”

“My dear, I assure you they were quite happy to suggest it themselves.”

“Oh?” Crowley raised his eyebrows, the beginnings of a smile tugging the corners of his lips upward. “Lead the way, then.”

\---

Aziraphale awoke suddenly in the darkness of their bedroom, disoriented for a moment. It was not often that he fell asleep, but… he blushed slightly as he recalled how Crowley had wrapped himself around him tightly, his hands roaming over Aziraphale’s body, how he had kissed his way from Aziraphale’s lips to the soft down between his legs and run his tongue up and down the length of him, so agonizingly slowly that Aziraphale had been begging him for it by the time Crowley decided that Aziraphale had had enough teasing. Crowley had drawn out their lovemaking that evening, as though relishing every moment of Aziraphale’s pleasure, but Aziraphale had not missed the strange undercurrent of tense urgency in the lines of Crowley’s body.

Exhausted as he was, he had fallen asleep in Crowley’s arms, his head resting on Crowley’s chest. But now – he turned his head to see the spot beside him empty, the moonlight falling softly over the black pillow. Where was Crowley?

Aziraphale sat up and turned on the small lamp on his nightstand before slipping his feet into his tartan bedroom slippers and pulling on a matching dressing gown. He opened the door and stepped out onto the landing, descending the stairs quietly. He switched on the light at the foot of the staircase, but Crowley was nowhere to be seen. A knot of worry was forming in his stomach. He padded to the window, peering out into the darkness.

His eyesight in the darkness wasn’t as good as Crowley’s, but it was enough that he could just make out a familiar figure standing in the yard near the greenhouse. Aziraphale sighed with relief and snapped his fingers, miracling his clothes on before stepping out into the coolness of the night.

Crowley was barefoot and still clad in his black silk sleep pants and shirt. He was looking up at the sky, but he turned his head to look at Aziraphale as he approached.

“What’re you doing up?”

“I should ask you the same thing. You gave me a bit of a fright, you know.”

Crowley made an apologetic sound.

“Couldn’t sleep, I guess. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Crowley shrugged, made an aborted hand gesture in the direction of the greenhouse before lifting his eyes back towards the sky.

_Oh._

Aziraphale thought hard for a moment before pulling a thick blanket from the firmament. The corner of Crowley’s mouth lifted when he saw it.

“Feeling whimsical today, aren’t we? I’m shocked it isn’t tartan.”

“Oh, hush.” Aziraphale spread the blanket out on the ground, emblazoned with a bright pattern that was highly reminiscent of Van Gogh’s _The Starry Night._ He looked at Crowley expectantly.

“Yes, yes, alright.” Crowley collapsed onto the blanket without further ado and looked up at Aziraphale, his eyes widening. “S’nice, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled, knowing Crowley’s weakness for comfortable soft things, though he would certainly never admit to it. He’d made the blanket as plush as he could for that purpose alone.

“I’m glad you like it, my dear.”

He settled down on the ground next to Crowley, close enough that their shoulders were touching. For a moment, he lay watching Crowley, whose fingers were still absentmindedly running over the blanket’s surface, his face in profile as he stared up at the sky. Heavens, he was so beautiful.

“Sky’s clear tonight.”

Aziraphale at last tore his eyes from Crowley to gaze upwards and gasped softly. The night sky was indeed so clear that it seemed as though it was ablaze with starlight, each tiny dot of light shimmering in the darkness. It was absolutely enthralling. It had been so long since he had last seen the sky like this – certainly it would have been impossible in London.

“Amazing,” Aziraphale murmured. Crowley turned his head to look at him.

“You think so?” There was an odd note in Crowley’s voice that Aziraphale couldn’t quite place. He rolled onto his side to look at Crowley, whose unblinking gaze was fixed on Aziraphale. What he couldn’t parse from Crowley’s tone, he could see clearly in his wide pleading eyes, though he couldn’t quite understand what was going through Crowley’s mind.

“Of course I think so. It’s astounding how beautiful it is.” He reached up, ran his thumb over the sharp curve of Crowley’s cheekbone. “The most beautiful thing I ever laid my eyes on.”

“We were talking about the _stars,_ angel.” Crowley smirked, his eyes never leaving Aziraphale’s. “I know it’s difficult, but try not to get distracted.”

“Wily old serpent.” Aziraphale tugged lightly on an errant curl of Crowley’s hair. “Believe me, it’s impossible. You are the most beautiful thing on this earth.”

The starlight was so bright that Aziraphale could see the light flush that had risen to Crowley’s face, and his eyes dropped for a second, as though suddenly bashful. Aziraphale loved him so much he ached with it.

“What are you thinking about?”

Crowley sighed, his eyes flicking up to the sky, studded with twinkling light.

“This is one of the few things I remember from Before.” His hand came up, swept across the heavens.

“What about it do you remember?”

Over six thousand years, and this was the first Aziraphale had heard Crowley speak of the angel that no longer was – the angel he had once been, before the Fall. His heart quickened, and he smoothed his hand over the auburn hair. He could not imagine how difficult it must be to remember this now.

“Only if you want to,” he added quickly. If it pained Crowley to speak of it, he would be happy to never hear about his memories of Heaven. He laid his hand on Crowley’s chest, hoping to soothe. To his surprise, Crowley covered his hand with his own and held it fast.

“I – I want to. If that’s alright.” He looked at Aziraphale quickly, with the same pleading expression. “I couldn’t before, but I think I can now.”

“Tell me, my love.”

“Ngk,” Crowley said. Aziraphale laughed.

“Really, Crowley. Aren’t you supposed to be the great tempter of mankind?”

“Shut up,” Crowley said half-heartedly. Aziraphale turned his hand over so that their palms met, laced his fingers around Crowley’s and squeezed.

“I would love to hear about it. Please.”

Crowley seemed unable to hold his gaze, and settled for looking up at the stars instead.

“I – I helped. With that.”

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped as he took in the meaning of Crowley’s words.

“You… helped build the stars?”

Crowley nodded minutely. Aziraphale gaped at him in astonishment. He had been a principality from the moment he was Created, made from the Beginning to protect and stand guard, and had never actively participated in creation himself. For a moment, he was seized with a nearly overpowering desire to ask Crowley about who he had been, before he had Fallen, but he tamped it down quickly. He lay back down beside Crowley, both of them watching the sky above.

“Tell me about it.”

Crowley raised his hand to point at a familiar constellation above.

“You recognize Orion?”

“Of course.”

“Look at the part where the sword is supposed to be.”

Aziraphale squinted. There was a fuzzy patch of light there that he had never noticed before.

“There’s another star there.”

“Mm. Not a star. A nebula.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale looked at Crowley, surprised. “What about it?”

“Look at it, angel. Really look at it.”

Aziraphale shut his eyes and took a deep breath. As he exhaled, he opened the unearthly eyes of his ethereal self that existed far beyond the mortal plane, eyes that could perceive much more than his physical corporation ever could. He directed them towards the heavens and beheld a vast formation of stars where he had first seen nothing but a fuzzy blot.

The nebula was an enormous cloud of interstellar gas and dust, a ball of light that held a cosmic storm within it. Even as he watched, a new-born star was birthed within that great stellar marvel, joining a small cluster of young stars at its centre, only hundreds of thousands of years old. He saw it then for what it was – a celestial nursery holding the children of the galaxy. He could only stare, lost in awe at the breath-taking splendour of it all.

Somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, he felt the light squeeze of a warm hand. Slowly, he shut his angelic eyes, regaining his awareness of his corporeal body.

“Come back, Aziraphale,” he could hear a voice whispering softly.

He opened his eyes to see Crowley bent over him, watching him anxiously.

“Everything all right?”

Aziraphale’s heart was almost too full to speak. He saw more clearly now what Crowley’s true nature was, in a way he never had before. A being whose greatest joy lay in giving life. Aziraphale could hardly believe it – and yet, it made perfect sense. That was why Crowley had never been cruel or malicious, why he could never be truly evil the way other demons were. Not even a pool of boiling sulphur could alter the true nature with which he had been Created.

“Oh, Crowley.” His voice was tremulous with the sheer wonder of it. “It was divine.”

He had spoken without thinking, without considering what impact his words would have, and he winced internally, bracing himself for the recoil that was sure to follow. But to his great surprise, a smile broke on Crowley’s face and he laughed with delight. Even after the celestial marvel that Aziraphale had just witnessed, he suddenly felt overwhelmed with a desire to weep at the look of joy on Crowley’s face.

“I was always proud of that nebula,” Crowley said softly, his eyes crinkling. “Good one, eh?”

His demon truly never ceased to amaze him. Aziraphale smiled up at him, feeling his throat tighten suddenly. What a gift Crowley had given him, yet another precious piece of himself that he had offered freely to Aziraphale. How glorious he was now, the planes of his proud face thrown into sharp relief by starlight and darkness. Aziraphale wondered anew what he could have done to be loved by such a beautiful creature.

“My love. How extraordinary you are. The wonder that’s keeping the stars apart.”

He pulled Crowley closer to him and kissed him breathless, licking his way into Crowley’s mouth, past his lips that were parted with desire. Crowley made a pleased sound in his throat, sighing as Aziraphale buried his hand in his curls and _tugged,_ just hard enough for Crowley to gasp against his mouth in surprise. He was suddenly overcome with an intense need to possess Crowley completely, right there beneath the endless sky. His other hand roamed urgently over Crowley’s body and gripped his thigh, high up enough that Crowley moaned, his voice rasping with lust.

“Crowley, may I have you?” Aziraphale’s arm circled around Crowley’s waist, pulling him firmly against him. He could already feel Crowley’s hardness growing, barely concealed by the thin silk he wore. He ground his hips up against Crowley, who gasped with the pleasure.

“Angel, _ah_ – yes. Now. Right now.”

Aziraphale pulled Crowley back down onto the blanket and settled himself on top of him, one muscled thigh between Crowley’s legs, keeping them firmly apart. Crowley rolled his hips up and a moan escaped Aziraphale’s throat. He traced his way down the line of Crowley’s neck with his lips, nipping with his teeth as Crowley moaned, his thighs tightening around Aziraphale’s and grinding upwards, sighing with the momentary relief of the friction. Crowley snapped his fingers and suddenly both of them were completely naked. Aziraphale shivered at the sudden coolness of the night air as Crowley’s hands moved up and down his sides, calming Aziraphale with their warmth.

Crowley lay beneath him, curls fanned out against the blanket, his eyes hooded with desire and his breath coming fast. Aziraphale could hardly believe how lovely he was, so vulnerable and open. He kissed Crowley on the lips gently as his miracle-slick fingers entered Crowley. Slowly, slowly – first one, then another, moving in and out deliberately, unhurriedly, until Crowley was panting shallowly beneath him, barely able to speak through the haze of his need.

“Aziraphale – please – _ah_. Please, angel.”

“Please what?” Aziraphale whispered into Crowley’s ear, bit down gently on his earlobe. Crowley whined and bucked his hips against Aziraphale’s hand, fisting his hand hard into the soft hair at Aziraphale’s nape.

“ _Fuck me_.”

Aziraphale smiled against Crowley’s lips, and thrust his fingers once, twice. Crowley’s bravado dissolved into a moan as he tried to move, but Aziraphale pressed down against him, using just a touch of his angelic strength to prevent him from moving his hips. He could feel Crowley’s heartbeat against his own chest, pounding hard with anticipation.

“My dear, I do believe you were making a _request_.” He curled his fingers and brushed against the small knot of nerves that made Crowley cry out and clutch desperately at Aziraphale’s shoulders.

“Aziraphale! You blessed tease – _ah_! Please!”

Aziraphale briefly considered teasing Crowley a little longer, but found he could no longer wait. Crowley groaned as Aziraphale pulled his fingers out, spreading the slick from his fingers over himself, exhaling sharply with each stroke of his hand, before pushing into Crowley as slowly as he could bear.

Crowley writhed beneath him, his head thrown back with utter pleasure. Aziraphale couldn’t help lowering his head to nip at the tempting expanse of his neck. Crowley gasped at the sensation of being filled and tipped his hips up, urging Aziraphale forward. Inch by inch he pushed in until he was buried to the hilt, filling Crowley completely. Aziraphale braced himself on his forearms on either side of Crowley’s head, kissing him deeply and breathing hard, trying to control himself until Crowley had relaxed enough around him. Gently, Aziraphale rocked his hips into Crowley, eliciting soft gasps until Crowley rolled his hips harder against Aziraphale.

“Angel, I – I’m not made of glass. You – _ah_ – you can go faster.”

Aziraphale snapped his hips against Crowley, again, and again, angling himself to find the spot that would make Crowley beg him to go faster, harder. Crowley’s nails raked down his back as he thrust into him relentlessly, finding a rhythm that had Crowley moaning wantonly with every thrust, eyes shut tight with exquisite pleasure, unable to say anything but Aziraphale’s name. He cried out as Aziraphale wrapped his fingers around his length, and it took only a few more strokes until Crowley was spilling into his hand, clenching hard around Aziraphale as his hips stuttered and stars erupted before Aziraphale’s eyes.

Gasping for breath, he pulled out of Crowley gently and lay back down on the blanket, enfolding Crowley in his arms as their racing hearts slowed and their breathing returned to normal. He buried his nose in Crowley’s hair, breathing in the familiar scent of home. Crowley pushed himself up, his chin resting on Aziraphale’s chest.

“Well, that was a thing.”

Aziraphale laughed.

“Yes, I’d rather say it was.” He ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair softly. “You absurd creature. Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

“Must be quite a bit, considering you had me right here for all of Heaven, Hell, and Earth to see.” Crowley’s tone was teasing, but the flush had crept back up into his face.

“I’d do it again right now, if you asked me to.”

“Always so _greedy_.”

Crowley traced his fingers down Aziraphale’s bare chest before flopping down next to Aziraphale to luxuriate in the softness of the blanket. He snapped his fingers, and suddenly Aziraphale was clean and dry, his clothes warm and smelling as though they had just been freshly laundered. He leaned over to kiss Crowley, just a light touch of lips.

“Thank you, my dear. Although I will take this to mean that you’ve had quite enough for today.”

Crowley covered his face with his hands, groaning.

“You’re a terrible angel.”

“Consider your temptation accomplished.”

He smiled and tugged Crowley back closer to him, so that he was looking up at the sky with his head against Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Look,” Crowley pointed. “You can see the Milky Way coming up now.”

They lay in companionable silence for some time, simply watching the night sky. The expanse of the galaxy lay amongst the stars, vast and incomprehensible in its magnificence. Aziraphale was mesmerized, thinking of how each single speck of light in that infinite expanse of darkness each held within it a huge storm of cosmic proportions. To think that Crowley had shaped them with his own hands! He could barely wrap his head around it. He thought once more of the nebula and its star-formation, how it was not only a thing of beauty on its own, but one that created more and more beauty within itself. A protective luminescent cocoon, housing so much life within it.

The thought brought something home to Aziraphale suddenly.

He had seen Crowley’s room of houseplants at his old Mayfair flat before, the foliage verdant and lush, and had thought it was quite like the Garden. Crowley’s private Eden. It was certainly the most beautiful indoor garden he’d seen in London. When he had tried to tell Crowley so, he waved away all his praise and would only talk about the plants to fume about their waywardness. But whatever Crowley might say about them to Aziraphale, his plants flourished wonderfully.

Gazing at the eternity of stars above them, Aziraphale now understood Crowley cared for his plants not just as a memory of Eden – it was Crowley’s only way of giving life with his hands, now that the act of creation was denied to him forever. There was a physical ache in his chest, to think that not even the Fall could take away Crowley’s true nature, the very essence with which he had been Created.

After they had moved into the cottage, Aziraphale had wondered if their living spaces would be dotted with plants, but it had not been so. Crowley didn’t even bother with landscaping the front yard. All his plants were strictly kept in the greenhouse, and harshly disciplined at that. Verbally abused, even. They were _terrified,_ Aziraphale realized, remembering how they had seemed to be shivering. The plants were as beautiful as ever, and yet Crowley was displeased. _Why?_

“You’re thinking so loudly right now, angel,” Crowley said suddenly, his eyes half-closed.

Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully before reaching up to stroke Crowley’s hair rhythmically. He felt Crowley relaxing against him in increments.

“I wanted to tell you that I thought your plants were growing splendidly, only I didn’t get the chance to.”

Crowley grunted, his eyes beginning to drift shut.

“They can do a lot better than that, the lazy bastards.”

“With all the time and care you lavish on them, they couldn’t grow badly if they tried.”

“They wouldn’t dare.” Crowley yawned. “They’re already mediocre as it is.”

“Why must you be so hard on them?”

“The only reason you think they look that good is because I’m hard on them.”

“They’re _beautiful_ , Crowley. Just as beautiful as the stars.”

Crowley’s eyes flew open and he stiffened. Aziraphale hastened to calm him, continuing to brush his fingers through the soft curls until Crowley reclined more easily against him once more.

“Everything you touch flourishes under your hands,” Aziraphale murmured, pressing his lips to the crown of red hair. “If you needed a reminder of that, all you need to do is look at the stars.”

“That was a long time ago.” Crowley’s voice was a rough whisper.

“Think of Warlock, then. Or take one good look at your greenhouse. Everything you care for grows higher than a soul can hope.”

Aziraphale could feel Crowley forcing himself to breathe evenly, at measured intervals. He continued to stroke Crowley’s hair, trying to soothe him. Aziraphale could not undo the agony of Falling, nor the hurt that Crowley had lived with every day since then. He could only hold Crowley, to ease his heavy burden where he could.

“We would not be here now, if not for you. Have I not flourished under your love?”

“Don’t say that.” Crowley rolled over to look Aziraphale squarely in the eye, his jaw clenched. “That was all you, angel.”

 _Ridiculous creature._ Aziraphale smiled despite himself.

“My dear, I’m fairly certain only one of us stopped the flow of time of the entire universe to prevent the Morningstar himself from destroying the Earth.”

“I could only do it because you gave me the strength.” Crowley’s voice dropped suddenly on the last few words. “You… you saw me. When I thought you had gone.”

“Oh, my love.”

Aziraphale pulled Crowley to him, held him close as Crowley trembled in his arms, his face hidden against Aziraphale’s chest. At last, Aziraphale saw his place in the universe – to hold Crowley up with his strength, to stand beside him every step of the way so that he could continue the life-giving work of his hands. Angel or demon, it was what Crowley was intended for. Aziraphale would be _damned_ if any being ever tried to keep Crowley from it.

“There is no power in this cosmos that will be able to separate you from me. Not even the end of days. I promise you that.”

His arms tightened protectively around Crowley, continuing to soothe him with soft words, running a comforting hand in circles on his back, until Crowley lay limply against him, worn out with emotion.

“Dunno if I’ve ever mentioned this, but frankly, it’s terrifying how well you know me,” Crowley said, his words muffled against Aziraphale’s chest.

“On the contrary, I find you surprise me every day, my dear. I suppose six thousand years isn’t long enough to know a demon.”

“Could say the same about you, angel.”

“I believe the common turn of phrase for it these days is ‘the mortifying ordeal of being known.’”

Crowley snorted.

“’Mortifying’ is certainly one way of putting it.”

“You’re not objecting, I hope?” Aziraphale glanced at Crowley somewhat anxiously. Crowley lifted his head to gaze at Aziraphale, his head cocked to one side.

“Surprisingly, no. Ask away, angel.”

“Now that you mention it, I was wondering something about the nebula.” Aziraphale fought to keep his voice casual, his expression steady under Crowley’s unblinking gaze.

“What?”

“Well, when I was looking at it… I thought it was shaped quite like a bow tie.”

Aziraphale could no longer hold back the playful smile on his face at the way Crowley was spluttering with consternation at this assessment of his finest work.

“It’s a bloody _hourglass,_ Aziraphale!”

“Oh, dear. How disappointing. And here I thought you had a hidden penchant for old-fashioned menswear after all.”

Crowley was laughing now, and Aziraphale was held spellbound for a moment as the starlight bathed Crowley’s head like the light of a halo. True, the angel he had been was gone forever. But it no longer mattered now. At the very core of him, there was something indefinably _Crowley_ that could not ever be touched or altered by any force of the universe, and that was more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Whew. Okay. My personal writing challenge for this fic was to write smut, because I've never written smut before lmao. I hope it wasn't too terrible. A few more tidbits:
> 
> The nebula I've referred to here is the famous [Orion nebula](https://astronomy.com/magazine/2019/10/inside-the-orion-nebula), a hotbed of star formation.
> 
> I have once again liberally quoted [[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/49493/i-carry-your-heart-with-mei-carry-it-in) by E.E. Cummings here, because I've always felt that it's a poem that properly captures the essence of their relationship.
> 
> Aziraphale's thoughts about supporting Crowley are loosely inspired by Isaiah 41:10.
> 
> I've been having a bit of a difficult time lately, but fic writing has been helping a lot. (Funnily enough, this particular one helped me think about some of my own issues.) Hope you're all taking care of yourselves out there, and staying home if you can! Come find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/contraststudies) and [Tumblr!](https://contraststudies.tumblr.com/)


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